


The Bitter Taste of Blood

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Formerly Sweet Serial Killer*<br/>AU where Dean and Castiel are serial killers, and they’ve never met, but because they’re both on the news so often they know about each other and communicate through security tapes. Their goals may be to kill each other but when they finally come face to face it may not turn out like they imagined...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Begining

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP based on:  
> http://crazycassidyd.tumblr.com/post/63492730958/sammyboner-rhirules97-whenever-i-see-this  
> So I don't take any credit for the idea, I'm just kinda running with it and seeing where it'll go.  
> Also if you have any ideas for a better title after reading this, please let me know in the comments.  
> Enjoy :)

“ _Dean Winchester strikes again, this time killing a family of three. Nearly 40 are dead by his hands and he doesn't show any sign of slowing his pace. He and another murderer by the name of Castiel Novak are tied for the FBI's number one most wanted.”_

The television flickered dimly in the grimy, pay-by-the-hour hotel as Castiel lounged on the bed. Word on the street was that Dean Winchester had made another kill. Castiel's grudging respect of the other fiend motivated him to stayed tuned in on the news, hoping to catch a glimpse of the other man's handiwork.

He was not disappointed. The three that he had killed had been in a public place. He'd corralled them into a corner and opened fire on them, blood splattering the walls and pooling around Dean's feet. The security camera footage they showed was grainy and tinted green, but an unmistakable smirk was carved onto Dean's lips. The Winchester looked up, winking at the camera cockily and saying something, clear enough for Cas to recognize there was a message there. Frowning, he pulled out an old battered laptop to look at the footage again.

It took him a few tries to read Dean's- admittedly delectable- lips and gather the message he had indeed left.

“Beat that, Cas.”

Flushing at the younger man's gall, Castiel scowled. How dare he insinuate that Castiel couldn't do better than the simple murder of three people. As if that took much thought or was hard to execute. Beating that would be easy, but Cas was still the game for a challenge. A slow, dangerous smirk snaked it's way onto Castiel's lips.

“I hope you can hide as well as you can kill, Dean Winchester,” he murmured, smiling once more and shutting his laptop. This was going to be _fun_.

~~~

His first kill had been when he was 17. Her name had been Leah and she had a crush on him. That was when he first realized the advantages of a pretty face and a cocky attitude. Luring her into the woods with the promise of sex, Dean had planned on killing her. After all she was the one who had hit Sammy with her car while driving drunk.

He would never forget the rush of sinking his hunting knife into her stomach. The soft whimpers and gasps she gave as she died were seared into his memory. The adrenalin rush as she crumbled backwards, blood spreading across her front was simply amazing. From then on he was always searching for that same rush, but he never found it anywhere else.

Smirking, Dean pulled into his safe house. Confidently, he walked through the house, which was little more than a glorified shack, and turned on the TV. Instantly, he was assaulted with the satisfaction of knowing that he'd stumped the police once again. Pausing to grab a cold beer from the fridge, Dean sighed. What he'd done hadn't been smart, even in the lightest sense of the word. Challenging Castiel to a game of 'beat that' had been spur of the moment. Although, it was past time for the games to start. Dean had been observing Castiel for years. The cold calculated murders he committed were fascinating to observe. It didn't hurt that Castiel had a pretty face and was very good at what he did; taunting and teasing the police.

So a game it was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas looks into Dean's past. Dean murders a man. Cas decides to pay someone a visit.

“ _Just a day after Dean Winchester's brutal triple murder, Castiel Novak has struck. He was seen entering a building and police were notified immediately. However, when they got to the scene Novak was nowhere to be seen and everyone in the building had been killed violently.” The footage cut to a shot of the blood drenched room, a message written in blood on the wall. It simply read 'your turn -C' “Police are unsure who this message is directed-”_

Castiel turned off the TV grinning in satisfaction. Dean would get the message loud and clear, and in the meantime Cas would spend his time researching the other murderer. The light from his laptop was the only source of illumination in the room as he picked through news articles, searching for anything of importance.

Most of the articles were about the numerous murders Dean had committed, but there was one about his family. Parent's both dead, but a younger brother that had graduated from Stanford and was now working as a lawyer in California. Dean's first kill had been a drunk driver who'd hit Sam when he was 13. He lived, obviously, but he was in a coma for almost three months. It was almost ridiculous how long it had taken the police to recognize that it was Dean who'd gutted the girl.

Castiel drummed his fingers on the laptop, chewing the inside of his cheek. Hopefully, Dean would give him a bit of a show this time around and not his usual boring murders. Murder was something to be calculated and cold. The rush you felt when you pulled it off, something you'd planned carefully even if something went wrong, was the best there was. Although Dean hadn't been caught yet, it seemed he rushed into the murder, skating by with luck and minimal skill. But Cas had to give the man credit for killing so may without being caught yet, even if it was just luck.

~~~

Swearing, Dean threw his bottle of beer against the wall. “How the hell did Cas even pull that off?” He shouted. The man had gone into the building with the police right on his ass and hadn't even been sighted. The only fucking trace that he'd even been the there was the corpses and his little note. Cas wasn't an average murderer; he was calculated and he covered his tracks well. But that didn't mean that Dean wasn't going to find the asshole and put a bullet in his brain.

Dean grabbed his gun, slipping into his waistband then grabbing his favorite hunting knife and strapping it to his hip. It was time to reply to Castiel's note.

 

His victim's name was Isaac Mathews, an accountant on his way home from work. Nothing special, but perfect for Dean's purposes. Currently, he was begging for his life.

“Please. Please. I have a kid I can't leave her alone.”

“Sorry, dude, but you're pleas aren't gonna save you. I'm a serial killer. If I listened to everyone's pathetic whimpers... then what would I be?” Dean said, sharpening his knife.

Isaac let out a sob. “I just want to live.”

“I know ya do, but this is what I do and unfortunately for you. You're my victim,” grinning savagely, Dean plunged his blade into the whimpering man's chest. He gasped in pain, blood welling up around the blade, slicking the handle and Dean's calloused hands. He twisted the blade, listening to Isaac's gurgling breaths with a manic grin. He jerked the blade out with a sickening slurp and shoving his hand into the gaping wound.

“Sweet dreams,” he hissed as he wrapped a hand around Isaac's heart and squeezed.

The man gave a few fruitless gasps before he stilled. Dean grinned removing his blood drenched hand from the cooling corpse. He flicked blood off of his hands as he cut down the dead man. Kneeling, he smirked and wrote a few simple words on the ground in the blood that stained his hand. With his clean hand, he pulled out Isaac's phone and snapped a picture.

_Come find me._

He hit send and watch as his message was delivered to the police. Shrugging, he threw the phone back down with it's dead owner and walked away.

~~~

Castiel parked his car, staring at the illuminated window. A dangerous smile tugged at his lips, and he pulled out one of his phones. Angling the camera at the window, he snapped a picture and wrote a quick message before hitting send.

_To: Dean Winchester_

_Guess who I found? Maybe I ought to pay Sammy a little visit. -C_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope you liked this chapter. Leave me comments, they motivate me. If you want to contact me my tumblr is crazycassidyd. Love you guys <3


	3. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets a text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update and that it's so short. School's been keeping me busy.

Dean’s phone chirped in his pocket and he frowned pulling it out. Only one person had this number and he’d been dead for almost a year now. As he opened the picture, his confusion grew. That is- until he read the caption. Swearing Dean grabbed his duffel bag and stalked out to his baby, a 1967 Chevy Impala. It wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, but Dean had hoped to lay low and wait out the police. Now there wasn’t a chance that Dean would lay low. Not with his baby brother in danger of becoming a murder victim. The low rumble of the impala’s engine and the crunch of gravel beneath tires gave Dean a strange sense of calm.

Sam hadn’t contacted Dean in years, and their last pay phone call had ended in Sam shouting, “God dammit Dean. You’re my brother and I love you, but I can’t do this. I’m going to be a lawyer. I can’t have you calling me. I could get in huge legal trouble."

From then on Dean had watched his brother grow from a distance, making sure he was safe and happy in a way Dean would never know. Not that he cared. The visceral joy he felt from taking lives was all he needed. Well, that and some cheap beer and it didn't hurt to have some busty Asian beauties as well. A small smirk tugged at the corners of Dean's lips.

That was when he picked up his phone, tapped on the number and held it up to his ear.

“Dean. I’ve been expecting your call.” His voice was low and gruff. Dean could practically hear the smug smile over the phone.

“Castiel, I assume?”

He chuckled, “Who else?”

“Where did you get my number?”

“Tch. Trade secrets stay that way,” the faint sound of fingers being drummed on a table filtered over the phone.

“Listen here, you fucker. You  leave my brother out of this. You got a beef with me you take it out on me. Sam stays out of it,” he spat, grip tightening on the steering wheel.

Castiel had the gall to laugh. “Too late. I’m afraid Sammy dearest won’t be staying out of it. In fact, I think he’ll be waking soon. I guess I’d better go greet him and send him your regards.”

“You fucking bastard-” the phone gave a beep indicating Cas had hung up. Dean let out a stream of curses, throwing the phone into the passenger seat. Glaring out at the road, he kept his foot pressed firmly on the gas pedal, speeding recklessly.

Dean would get there in time. He would save Sam. Like he always did.

~~~

Castiel set his phone down on the wooden table, screen still glowing and proudly boasting a three minute and fifty-six second conversation with Dean Winchester. He grinned, slowly standing and nudging the prone figure at his feet with a boot. He stirred, eyes fluttering open and brows furrowing in confusion.

“Dean?” He grumbled, attempting to move and frowning when he noted his bound limbs.

“Sorry, Sam. But I couldn’t take any chances. Your brother send his love,” Cas grinned, pulling out his knife and cleaning under his fingernails with the tip.

Sam paled, his eyes following the knife warily. He didn’t say anything, resolutely clenching his jaw.

Oh, he was going to be so much fun to break.


	4. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean confronts Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. School gave me three papers and I needed to focus on them. Hope you like the chapter. As always if you see any glaring errors please let me know in the comments.

_Dean Winchester’s latest kill has been positively identified as Isaac Matthews. Officials are unable to say more at this time, but from reports-_

He pulled over, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes and climbed out of the impala. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, he walked to the back, popping the trunk and lifting the false bottom. Under the carpeted plywood were several different compartments, all filled with weapons and false identities. Pursing his lips, Dean grabbed his gun and replaced the magazine and slid a knife into his belt. Satisfied for the moment, Dean got back behind the wheel.

   

Sam’s screams didn’t even sound human. They tore into Dean like knives. _Your fault. You should have been watching out for him. You should have protected him._ He was so close. Just one more house and he would be there.

The agonized screams cut off abruptly and Dean broke into a run, kicking in the door to Sam’s small two bedroom house. “Sammy!”

“Oh good, the main course is here,” Castiel’s gravelly voice was somehow silky smooth.

Dean pulled his gun, leveling it at Castiel.

He was an unassuming man, but breathtaking in a dangerous way. Covered in blood- Sam’s blood- and smirking cockily at Dean, daring him to move. His blue eyes were impossibly dark and mesmerising.

Shaking off those thoughts, he glanced at Sam who was lying in a pool of his own blood, eyes glazed.

“He’s not dead. Not yet anyway.”

“You’re still a walking corpse, Castiel. No one fucks with my brother and lives. No one.”

Cas snorted. “You don’t scare me. Besides by the time I’ve finished talking, you’ll be the one finishing little Sammy off.”

“I sincerely doubt that, you fucker,” he had the shot, why couldn’t he take it?

“You can’t even pull the trigger on me? Can you?”

A slow even breath and Dean’s finger squeezed the trigger. The sharp retort of the gun going off filled the air.

Castiel stumbled back, blood spreading across his front and he grinned. “Good. Very good.” He raised a hand to his left shoulder, pressing against the wound there, hissing in pain. “But it’s still not enough. Because even if you can kill me, you know deep down inside that Sammy’s just tying you down. You could be so much more without his voice in your ear-”

“Shut up!”

Castiel continued as if Dean had never spoken. “He’s always been the voice of reason, preventing you from doing rash things. But you don’t need him. I could be your voice of reason. He’s a lawyer, Dean. He’s not going to protect you if you get caught. Hell, he’ll feed you to the dogs. Besides. You’ll be saving him. If you let him live, he’ll only get himself hurt again or someone else will kill him.”

Dean knew there was a shred of truth to Castiel’s words but he latched onto two things: His name coming from those delectable lips and the idea of Cas being his voice of skewed reason. “Why would you be my voice of reason?”

“Think about it Dean. You and I.” Dean’s stomach flipped. “Together we could be the greatest killers in the world. Your daring and my precise thought.”

Cas could see Dean’s resistance crumbling and he gave a slight smirk.

“The only thing standing in our way is Sam. Kill him Dean. And together, we’ll rack up the body count.”

Dean looked from Sam to Castiel. Closing his eyes, Dean lined up the shot, and pulled the trigger.

Crack.

Dean pursed his lips and let out a shuddery breath, “I’m so sorry Sammy.”

Castiel grinned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unbeta'd so forgive me for any errors.  
> my tumblr is: crazycassidyd.tumblr.com  
> Thanks for reading.


	5. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean binds Castiel's wounds and feelings are had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever to write. I was doing good, set to update a week or so ago and then school decided to swamp me.

“Don’t fucking bleed all over my seats asshole.” Dean growled, as Castiel pulled his hand away from the slowly oozing wound in his shoulder.

“It was you who shot me, if you recall.”

“Yeah. I know. Pity I didn’t just shoot you in the fucking head,” Dean grumbled, pulling over and walking around to his trunk, pulling out a meager first aid kit and walking back up the passenger seat where Castiel sat.

“You’re a goddamn mess.”

“So you’ve said,” Cas pulled his hand away from the wound once more.

“You’re going to have to take your shirt off so I can bandage that.” Dean opened the kit, sifting through it, looking for the alcohol, thread and needle; the staples of his medical experience.

Castiel nodded, hissing as he pulled off the dark grey t-shirt he’d been wearing. He was well muscled with tan smooth skin pulled taut over muscle and bone. Dean licked his lips, staring for a few seconds before jerking his gaze to the only marr on Castiel’s chest. The bullet hole was dark with the skin surrounding it shredded and burned with strands of fabric embedded in the wound. Blood was slowly trickling down Cas’s chest, the  dark droplets of blood captivating as the followed the nooks and crannies his chest.

Castiel coughed slightly and that broke the spell. Dean grabbed the bottle of brandy and gestured for Castiel to step out of the impala. “There’s no way I’m doing this in my baby.” He said.

Groaning, Castiel got out of the classic muscle car. “It’s just a car for fuck’s sake.”

“My car, my rules,” Dean said coming up to the shorter man and examining the wound for another moment before dousing it with brandy.

“Jesus. A warning might have been nice,” Cas snapped, hand shooting out to take a handful of Dean’s jacket as a low hiss escaped his lips as Dean repeated the action.

“Consider yourself warned,” Dean muttered, setting the bottle down and blotting the wound with a ragged flannel rag. “I think I can get the bullet out if you hold still,” he mumbled, grabbing tweezers.

Cas’s grip on Dean’s jacket tightened as Dean stuck the tweezers into the wound. Gasping slightly and face scrunched in pain, Castiel did his part and didn’t move as Dean dug around the wound, extracting the bullet after a few moments. Cas let out a soft sigh of relief as Dean set the bullet down.

“Alcohol,” Dean muttered just before he doused the wound again.

Castiel hissed again and Dean chuckled slightly, threading the needle.

“It seems odd that you know how to do this. Why would a murder know how to stitch other people up?” Cas asked to distract himself of the slight pain of Dean sewing his skin back together.

“I learned early how to take care of myself. Mom died young. Dad fell of the deep end when she died. ‘Til the day he died he swore she’d been killed by some a demon. A fucking demon. He used to get drunk, and then he’d get violent. Lot of times he took it out on Sam or I, so we both got pretty good and stitching one another back together.” Dean shrugged, tying off the stitches. “But after I killed my first vic, I walked in on him beating Sammy so I killed him too. I went of the run, Sam went into the foster system and here we are today. Me free of both of those burdens,” Dean gave a savage grin.

Castiel returned his smirk, “I told you that killing Sam would set you free.”

Dean snorted, unconvinced he’d done the right thing, even if he felt like he’d just dropped a bag full of rocks that he hadn’t even known he’d been carrying. Licking his lips, Dean tied off Castiel’s stitches and snipped the thread and threw the brandy and needle back into his kit.

“That’s gonna have to do for now,” Dean grumbled, tossing the kit into the back seat of the impala and wiping the blood off his hands with the flannel rag. He tossed it lazily to Cas, “Clean yourself up and get in the car. We’ve got a long ways to drive before we’re even remotely safe.”

Castiel sighed, rolling his eyes and mopping up the blood that stained his tanned chest. “We could have avoided police if you had killed him in a quieter manner.”

Dean whirled around from where he was walking around the car and stood toe to toe with the shorter murder. “If you hadn’t gotten in the way I never would have had to kill him,” jaw clenched and teeth bared, Dean closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath. He put his hand on Cas’s shoulder, “But of course, you knew that.”

Castiel smirked, “Of course. That was the plan, after all.”

Dean growled, digging his thumb into the wound he’d inflicted. Castiel let out a soft huff, refusing to let anything more pass his lips. This was just Dean playing chicken with him and he couldn’t afford to lose.

The silent standoff filled the air with tension. Cas’s free hand picking at the seam of his grubby jeans and Dean’s breath harsh and uneven. After a moment, Dean met Castiel’s gaze. He met those dark blue eyes that seemed infinitely old and vicious and he felt a surge of something. He had no words for what it was, but it made his stomach clench and his mouth go dry. The strained air dissipated, replaced with something more carnal; a mixture of hate, anger and desire. It was Dean who cracked first, he loosened his grip slightly and that was all Cas needed. He knocked Dean’s hand free from his shoulder and shoved him back.

Dean stumbled back, the sensation shattering.

“Your idiocy has the cops on our tail, _you_ get us out of this mess.” Castiel snapped, pulling on his bloodstained shirt and sliding into the impala.

Glowering at the other murderer, Dean climbed into the car, slammed his door shut and started the engine; it’s comforting rumble helping to curb Dean’s growing sense of unease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys for reading, if you see any glaring errors please let me know and thanks for your patience; ya'll are rockstars.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you thought of it. This is my first time publishing anything, so be gentle. Thanks for reading.


End file.
